“First, because you’re clever, and I think you’ve got a good heart. I get the feeling that you actually care about people. Plus, you’re not letting yourself get swept up in all the madness.”
It all came out at once. The last part he’d let slip with no forethought.
Antía blinked pensively. Then her face relaxed, and she smiled.
“Well, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in quite some time,” she said, looking down, “but the timing’s pretty awful if you’re trying to flirt with me.”
Roberto felt his face flush. “You’re totally right that it’s all getting to be too much,” he said, changing the subject. “All that money stashed in the church, Pampín’s death ... and now this.”
Antía winced at the mention of the poacher’s name, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Poor Diego,” she sobbed. “He’s just a kid! I don’t know what we’re going to—”
“Listen to me carefully,” he said, taking her hands in his. “This is why I had to speak to you alone. There’s something you need to know.”
And Roberto began.
20
Cards on the Table
Once he started speaking, it was as if a wall inside him had come tumbling down. As he recounted the chain of events since his arrival, he became aware of just how much had happened in the space of only six days. But when he got to the part about Luis Docampo murdering Víctor Pampín in cold blood, Antía’s reaction reminded him that he wasn’t the only one caught up in it all.
“Oh my God!” She covered her mouth. “But then, that means—”
“Diego didn’t kill Pampín,” he said, finishing her sentence. “Your brother isn’t responsible.”
Antía stood there, staring at Roberto wide eyed as she processed the information. She then launched herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly that he was forced to take a step back. He returned her embrace awkwardly as her perfume, mellow and sweet, invaded his senses. When they eventually separated, she looked up at him with glistening eyes.
“It’s the best-possible news,” she said, wiping away her tears. “You can’t imagine the weight you’ve just taken from my shoulders.”
“There’s still a murderer in our midst,” he said somberly. “Or two, most likely. I don’t believe that Luis Docampo’s killed one of his own, especially not like this.”
“No, of course not.” She grimaced. “Do you think this killing has anything to do with the money?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you.” He held her gaze. “Could one of your family have had something to do with it, as a way of getting hold of the money?”
“Of course not!” she cried. “They’re far from perfect, but none of them would do such a thing, especially without my mother’s say-so.”
“Then we really have a problem,” Roberto mused. “Not only is there the money; someone else on the island is clearly willing to kill, and we currently have zero sense of the motive.”
“That’s not the worst of it.” Antía’s voice was bitter. “The money means everyone’s on edge. This death, with the beheading ... it could mean all-out war.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“Just think about it,” she said. “Our families have been at each other’s throats for so long that no one really remembers how it all started. Every now and then, something comes up to stoke the hatred, but now with this money in the mix ... it changes everything.”
Roberto could see what she meant. There was a long-running feud, but both sides were trapped on the island. It couldn’t ever go beyond contempt, harsh words, or unpleasant gestures, because the families shared the same space.
But now, if one of the parties was able to claim the money, it would put them in a position of definitive strength.
They were sitting on a powder keg, and the tiniest spark was all it would take. With the island cut off by the storm, and the atmosphere heightened by the appearance of the money, this cruel murder might be quite sufficient.
“And that’s not all,” he added.
He then proceeded to tell her about his encounter with the lighthouse keepers and the threat to report them if they didn’t hand over a third of the loot.
“Another complication.” Antía shook her head. “Please tell me there’s nothing else I should know.”
Roberto decided against sharing what he knew of the tryst between Helena Freire and Tristán Docampo. Not only had he promised the lovers he’d keep it a secret, but he also doubted very much that the revelation would be to anyone’s advantage in that particular moment—just more wood for the fire.
